


but the ghosts that we knew will flicker from view

by vikitty



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-13
Updated: 2014-02-13
Packaged: 2018-01-12 04:42:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1182046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vikitty/pseuds/vikitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So it’s my best friend Jana’s birthday today, and every year I ask her what she wants me to write her. Ironically, even though the fandom that introduced us to one another is Psych, she always wants Doctor x River. Anyway, her request was “River/Eleven where River’s already in the Library storage, but somehow she visits Eleven whenever she wants cause she’s amazing. River thinks Eleven can’t see her, but we all know this to be untrueeeeee. River does things and Eleven tries his hardest to pretend he doesn’t see her. Make it fluffy and then make it hurt HAHAHAHA. ilu.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	but the ghosts that we knew will flicker from view

He makes the decision to retrieve her backup shortly after losing Rory and Amy. Of course, he has the flesh and blood version of her in the TARDIS for a few months following their deaths – although technically they’ve been dead for years. He doesn’t like technicalities, really. The pain is too fresh for them to have been gone that long. He feels it deep in his bones, that dull ache that follows him around. River feels it too, although she never outright says it. She never does. Eventually she leaves, promising one day to return when he needs her most.

The TARDIS is too quiet. He remembers Amy’s last words to him, her final request, that he not travel alone.

Within hours, she’s standing there in front of him, flickering slightly as the technology strains to keep the link active. It’ll need tweaking, of course.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

He turns away, pretending to fiddle with the setting on his sonic. Immediately he tries to reverse the connection, because seeing her hurts so very much, especially seeing her like this, with her wild curls untamed by time and the fine lines around her eyes that would appear when she smiled. There hadn’t been a lot of smiling that first time he met her, in the Library. Not until the very end.

“Oh, sweetie. Don’t tell me you only made this a one-way projection. That’s just no fun!” River complains, and he can hear the pout in her voice.

He has a feeling this is a very bad idea, but he leaves everything the way it is and walks away. He can’t hear her follow – she has no footsteps – but the air around her seems to change, the metallic scent of time particles being rearranged to accommodate her form.

The real River smelled of cinnamon and gunpowder.

~~~

At least with River, the Doctor knows he doesn’t have to look out for her when things get tricky. Clara manages fine on her own, and between the two of them they make a good time, but he still worries about her, as he does about all of his companions. Especially after Amy and Rory. He tells himself that this is a way for River to continue having adventures with him even in death, but he knows it’s a paltry excuse. It’s not what she would have wanted at all. He knows he’s being selfish.

One night, after taking a ridiculously long and hot bubble bath (the TARDIS liked to tease him about his preference for bubble baths) to try and ease the chill from their encounter with the Ice Warriors, he’s struggling to untangle himself from the towel when River walks in, gives him an approving once-over, and promptly exits.

Worst. Idea. Ever.

~~~

Clara asks about River once. Well, not directly, but as they’re having tea and he’s eating the last crumbs of the biscuits, she asks him about his previous companions.

“Amy and Rory… I know you don’t like to talk about them, but that was months ago. Well, years ago, if you want to get technic- sorry, dropping it.” She so charmingly callous he just gapes at her over the rim of his teacup.

“Were you really alone all that time before you came and found me?” she asks, and the Doctor shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

“Ah, well, not exactly. I had someone. Bit like you – just popped in and out whenever. Wasn’t exactly long term.”

Clara snorts at his choice of words. “Oh, Doctor., who says I’m looking for something long term, either?”

Behind him, River chuckles along with Clara. “Oh, sweetie, I think you and I are exactly what you’d call ‘long-term.’”

He ignores her, swipes the last biscuit from Clara’s hand, and stands up.

“Shouldn’t we be exploring a planet or something right now?”

There’s a flicker of suspicion in Clara’s eyes, and rightly so. She runs off towards the console room, expecting him to follow.

After a moment, he does, and as he walks straight past River, he smells smoke and spice. He’s not sure how, but arm brushes against where hers would be and he can almost feel it, a phantom limb that’s not even his own.

~~~

The TARDIS is quiet as he walks along the empty halls. The only sound is his boots making heavy footsteps as he walks, but halfway to his room he realises it’s not true at all. There’s a second pair of footsteps in stride with his own – softer, lighter, the click of heels. He throws open the door to his bedroom – the dark, crowded, cluttered room he uses more for storage until he actually does need sleep. With all of the grace of a newborn giraffe, he flops face down on his unmade bed and sighs.

As expected, the mattress dips as she sits down on the edge of the bed, and the physics alone are, for all logic and reason and just pure science, impossible. She shouldn’t have weight or mass of any kind, because she’s not real. She’s just a copy, a ghost, a hologram.

Except he feels her hand on his shoulder, and he grits his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut tight so he won’t react. He can’t react. He can’t be in love with a ghost. Not again.

But oh, how he wishes he could be. Because it would mean less room in his hearts for the pain, the guilt, the fear. He rolls over onto his side and she’s there, curls spilling over her shoulder as she looks at him with such kindness, love, adoration, and sadness in her eyes.

He looks straight through her.


End file.
